


Grains of sand in our hourglass

by strikedawn



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, Mid-Game, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikedawn/pseuds/strikedawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are Sorey and Mikleo, and these are just some moments in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grains of sand in our hourglass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hihazuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihazuki/gifts).



> Hey all! My name is Blue, and this is my first contribution to the Tales of fandom. I hope I haven't messed up too much with the characters' personalities and that all of you enjoy my little fic! It has both scenes that I have created and in-game scenes that I have rewritten so they are a little bit more sormik! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!! <3<3
> 
> THIS IS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY DEAR FRIEND ARA, MY USUAL BETA! This is a surprise so she hasn't been able to work on it, meaning THERE WILL BE MISTAKES. SORRY ABOUT THAT! I hope you like it, Ara, and that I didn't make a poor choice choosing zestiria as your birthday present! HAVE A GOOD DAY LOVE, I LOVE YOU <3<3<3

They are eight years old the first time Sorey really hurts himself.

It’s not like Sorey hasn’t gotten hurt in the past. He’s the type of child to always wear his knees scrapped and a band-aid somewhere in his face— if there were band-aids in Elysia. The vision of an injured Sorey limping around the green fields is not an unusual one.

But this time is different. They are eight years old, still too young to be exploring the ruins, but that does not stop them. It’s their little secret, after all, the reason they share a look behind Gramps’ back when he tells them to not go beyond the village’s gates, the reason why there is dirt under Sorey’s nails and why there’s a growing collection of rocks of different colors on the shelf above Mikleo’s bed. They keep it a secret because even though they think they are old enough, that they are invincible and nothing could happen to them —“ _The ruins are not that far away, come on, Mikleo!”—,_ they know no one can survive one of Gramps’ punishments.

They are leaving the ruins when it happens. Sorey steps on a trap and the floor gives under him, opening to a great darkness below that seems pulled out of their worst nightmares. It’s thanks to Sorey’s own quick reflexes that he doesn’t fall, but the way he jumps to the side has his ankle twisting in the wrong way—his feet towards one side, his whole body towards the other. Sorey had not screamed when the floor crumbled, but he screams when the bone breaks, and the pain makes him not remember to stop the fall, so his cheek scratches itself on the floor.

“Sorey!” Mikleo is already next to Sorey, hands fluttering around nervously, afraid of hurting his friend even more. There are fat tears running down Sorey’s cheeks but he’s not screaming anymore; that’s Mikleo’s task now—scream Sorey’s name until the insides of his throat are raw.

That’s the day they discover they hadn’t been keeping their secret as safe as they had thought. There had always been a seraph following after them, keeping themselves at enough distance as to not be discovered but also give the children the sensation they were alone. And so that day, Mason appears suddenly from around a corner, pries Sorey away from Mikleo’s shaky fingers and into his arms, and gets both of them out of the ruins.

Mason takes them directly to Taccio —the elder water seraph. Mikleo watches, terrified, as both adults lay Sorey on a table and get to work, Mason keeping his hands on Sorey’s shoulders so as to keep him still, while Taccio rests his around Sorey’s ankle. And Mikleo keeps watching, just this time in wonder as blue light emanates from Taccio’s hands, and Sorey’s face relaxes until there’s no more pain in it. The whole thing lasts less than half a minute, but it feels like too much. When Mason’s hands slip away from Sorey’s tiny body and Taccio steps back, Mikleo dares walk closer to his friend.

“…Sorey…?” He asks, voice still raw from all the shouting.

“Hey.” Sorey says, his usual smile directed at Mikleo. “It doesn’t hurt anymore!”

At that, Mikleo feels relief wash away all his worries, but that doesn’t stop a frown from appearing on his face. “But I heard the bone…”

“It’s all been taken care of.” Mason asures them with a kind smile. “Your ankle is as good as new, Sorey.”

“But how?” Mikleo asks again, his voice demanding. Sorey’s little hand grabs a fistful of Mikleo’s blue robe.

_Calm down,_ the gesture seems to say. Sorey pulls the fabric down twice. _I’m okay now, so calm down._

Later that day, after a whole reprimand from Gramps, and the Meanest Punishment Ever, Mikleo sneaks out of his and Sorey’s bedroom and goes see Taccio. He seems to be waiting for Mikleo when the child arrives, because Taccio leans on his cane when he comes in and smiles warmly, starting to walk to the back of the house.

“Come with me, Mikleo.” He tells him.

“Taccio, I—“

“You want me to teach you how I healed Sorey, isn’t that right?”

Mikleo’s big eyes opened even wider with wonder. “How did you—?”

Taccio’s affectionate laugh cut off Mikleo’s voice. “Not too hard to guess. I have always known you would like to learn how to do this, someday. You would do anything to assure Sorey doesn’t get hurt.”

Had Mikleo been older, he would have blushed. But he’s still full of childish innocence, so he nods fast enough for his hair to bounce around and says: “Anything!”

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

They are thirteen when they decide to do something bold.

“Why do you even want to try _that_?” Mikleo asks crossing his arms before his chest, letting what he thinks about the issue show in the way he says his last word.

Sorey simply shrugs, eyes fixed on the Celestial Record opened over his crossed legs. Mikleo knows he’s pretending to be reading, because his fingertips grip too tightly the covers of the book, and because he has not turned a page in the last ten minutes. “I don’t know.” Sorey says, not looking at his friend. “I just want to know how it feels like.”

Mikleo’s eyebrow twitches and his hand flies upwards. He’s growing his hair so it covers his circlet, but he’s not used to it yet, so he’s slightly taken aback when his fingers don’t find immediately the cold metal over his forehead.

“Then go find someone to kiss and be done with it!”

Maybe —surely—he’s being unfair, but Mikleo can’t understand the feelings inside of him. There’s annoyance, and some kind of anger, something akin to _jealousy_ (though he is not mature enough to admit it, nor understand it); but over everything else, there’s lack of understanding. He can’t wrap his head around the idea of _wanting_ to lock lips with someone, to be so close to them that you can smell their breath. What could be pleasurable or exciting about sharing saliva like that?

And why does Sorey want to do it, anyway? Why now, why so suddenly?

“I can’t do that!” Sorey jumps in his seat, his book sliding from his lap, and he quickly moves to pick it up because he doesn’t want his bookmarks to slide from their places. Once he has it safely in his arms again, Sorey repeats himself, more calmly this time but _still_ not looking at Mikleo. “I can’t do that. Everyone in Elysia is older than us, more experienced. They would laugh.”

“No one would ever laugh at you.” Mikleo says, softly. He hadn’t even thought about saying something like that, but when Sorey lifts his head to smile shyly at him, Mikleo is glad he did.

“Maybe you’re right. But I was hoping that maybe…” Sorey’s eyes are back on his book, his index finger tapping nervously against one of the cover’s corners. “That maybe _you_ would help me?”

“M-me!?” Mikleo exclaims, and his changing voice decides to be sneaky then and turn itself more high. It shows how nervous Sorey is when he doesn’t laugh and point it out. “Why would you want it to be with _me?_ ”

Sorey shrugs once again. “Is it really that weird?” He asks, his eyes finally finding Mikleo’s, and they look so green and so big and so warm at the light of the fireplace… “You’re the only person I know who hasn’t kissed anyone… Wait, you _haven’t_ kissed anyone before, have you?”

Mikleo scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Of course I haven’t.”

“I was just thinking we could treat it as some sort of experiment. Just to try.” Sorey says. It’s then when his eyes flash with a thought and he leans forward suddenly, his hands close to Mikleo’s face, fingers splayed and shaking quickly, as if he were trying to erase his words from where they hang in the air. “But it’s okay! I don’t wan’t you to feel bad, if it makes you feel uncomfortable—!”

“It doesn’t.” Mikleo says, grabbing Sorey’s wrists and pushing them down so his hands don’t cover Mikleo’s face. “You’re not making me feel uncomfortable, nor bad.” This time, it’s Mikleo who shrugs. “I just don’t understand.”

One of Sorey’s hands gets from under Mikleo’s grasp and goes to the back of his own neck, nails scratching at the short hair there. His other hand stays still under Mikleo’s. “Do you think you would be able to understand if we tried it?”

Mikleo ponders his answer under Sorey’s eager gaze, his free hand rubbing his own chin pensively. “Maybe. There’s only one way to find out, I guess.”

Sorey moves quickly then, leaning forward until their noses are inches apart, his book falling to the floor once again, and Mikleo can’t help but move back in surprise. Sorey’s grin is gigantic, and half of his face is illuminated by the light of the fire, and —not for the first time in his life—Mikleo is taken aback by how beautiful Sorey is, how full of life his eyes are.

When Mikleo’s heart starts to beat wildly inside his chest, he pretends it’s due to nervousness.

“Wait, wait, you wan’t to do it _now?_ ”Mikleo asks, leaning a little bit more back. Sorey gains back the distance Mikleo has put between them by leaning forward on his hands.

“Why not?” He asks; but at the same time his eye sober then and he leans back again, until he’s sitting on his legs again. “Although maybe you’re not ready right now…”

Rivalry flares in Mikleo’s chest and it’s him who leans forward this time, putting his hand over Sorey’s heart to keep his balance, the other releasing Sorey’s wrist just to cup his cheek, palm barely caressing Sorey’s skin.

“I am ready.” Mikleo says to an astonished Sorey, voice sure and firm. Sorey nods, once, twice, and then his hands move shakily upwards, until Mikleo’s jaw rests on Sorey’s palms, and his fingertips hook on the back of the bone.

Under Mikleo’s palm, Sorey’s heart starts to beat frantically.

“Your heart is beating too fast.” Mikleo can’t help but point out, eyes on Sorey’s.

Sorey’s eyes are on Mikleo’s lips when he replies: “Shut up.”

They soon discover that kissing is not as easy as it seemed. They are only sliding their own lips against the others, mouths barely open, and still Mikleo thinks there’s too much saliva, and that the fact that he can smell the curry they had for lunch in Sorey’s breath is too weird.

_This is so not working._

Sorey seems to be thinking the same, because he makes a sound deep in his chest and leans back slightly. Mikleo already has the _‘I told you this wasn’t a good idea_ ’ ready in his tongue when Sorey kisses him again, somehow stealing the words from his mouth, and his breath, and even his thoughts, because now, _now they are truly kissing,_ or at least that’s what Mikleo thinks they are doing. Sorey’s mouth falls open for a second to suck Mikleo’s lower lip in between his, and Mikleo’s eyes fluter closed at the sensation. And _yes,_ there is still too much saliva, and Sorey still tastes like curry, but—

_But—_

The side of Mikleo’s face that is illuminated by the fireplace feels too warm, but Sorey’s hand on his cheek is cold on his cheek. His fingertips are rough on his jaw, but they way they press down on the bone hurts in _all the right ways_ when Sorey turns his head to the side, sending shivers down Mikleo’s arms. Sorey’s palms bring Mikleo’s chin up and the angle of the kiss changes, making the kiss itself change.

Mikleo is kissing back but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Sorey seems sure of himself, and that turns his kiss into something good, something pleasurable, even if Mikleo doesn’t know for sure if it’s because Sorey kisses well or because of what.

Good kissing depends on balance, Mikleo discovers while Sorey nips at his lower lip. There are bad things in this new experience, yes, things that Mikleo doesn’t like— But Sorey makes it better, Sorey and his big hands, and his strong heart under Mikleo’s palm, and the tickling of his feather earrings on the back of Mikleo’s hand, and his teeth—

Mikleo makes a sound and they both break the kiss, their lips making a wet sound in the too silent room that makes them both flinch. Mikleo’s fingertips are on his own lips, and he finds them tender to the touch, and sore there where Sorey had bitten him with his front teeth. Mikleo’s breathing is labored, and his skin is too hot, and he can’t stop licking at his bottom lip, goddamit—

“I’m sorry, Mikleo, did I—?”

Sorey sounds nervous. When Mikleo looks at him, the Celestial Record is back in Sorey’s arms, and Sorey is clinging to it the way a child would cling to a blanket for comfort. His eyes are too bright, and his skin is all blotchy red. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing.

He looks so worried while he looks down at Mikleo that Mikleo has to look away.

“I’m fine.” Mikleo says, voice uneven. “You just bit down a little too hard.”

“Okay. No bitting.” Mikleo can see Sorey nodding from the corner of his eye. “Noted.”

“Maybe no ‘not bitting’.” Mikleo says back and turns to look at Sorey. “Just… Lighter.”

“Lighter.” Sorey repeats in a whisper, the same way he would read aloud some engravings on the ruins. “Noted.”

There’s silence after that, a silence in which Sorey caresses the cover of the book, while Mikleo sucks on his own bottom lip pensively. It’s weird to feel the indentations of teeth on his skin while knowing they are not his own.

“Mikleo,” Sorey calls, and instinctively Mikleo turns around, eyes on his friend. “We’re good… Right?”

Just like that, all tension leaves Mikleo’s body. He holds Sorey’s gaze for a moment, and then he smirks, one of his eyebrows disappearing under his fringe. His playful expression puts Sorey on alert, so he knows what to expect when Mikleo pounces on him, jabbing his index fingers on Sorey’s sides.

“N-no, Mikleo, stop!”

The kiss is soon forgotten in favor of their tickle fight.

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

Sorey is seventeen when he decides to leave Elysia.

“Everyone… I’m sorry!” He shouts to the village that has always been his home. Mikleo sees him bow from the side, hands clasped in front of him in apology. But soon Sorey straightens himself and smiles, hands on his hips. He’s wearing the clothes he usually wears when he goes to explore the ruins with Mikleo, and it makes Mikleo smile because he too has chosen the exploring clothes for the journey. He quickly scolds his mouth into a frown again; he can’t let Sorey think he’s happy about his decision.

“All right!” Sorey says with a nod, and Mikleo takes that as his cue to enter the scene.

“What is?”

Sorey turns to look at Mikleo with wide eyes and blinks once, twice, before screaming, arms flailing around. Mikleo watches the whole scene with his arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised, unimpressed.

“Mikleo!” Sorey shouts when he’s stopped moving. “Why!?”

Mikleo turns sideways, looking at Sorey from the corner of his eye. His fingertips dig into his own arms. “I won’t let you sneak away alone. I’m going too.”

Sorey’s face is basked in moonlight, and his eyes look silver, more similar to Mikleo’s now than green. He’s blinking owlishly at him, and Mikleo wants to savor the moment —but there’s no time. The fox man is after Alisha, and if they don’t hurry the consequences could be fatal. He says so to Sorey while he walks past his friend, but Sorey simply follows him with his eyes, still rooted to his place.

That is, until Sorey sprints forward so he’s blocking Mikleo’s path and says his name one more time. This time, Mikleo looks at him and frowns, because _Sorey can’t still be surprised about me appearing out of thin air, can he? It surely wasn’t that much of a surprise?_

“W—what is it?” Mikleo asks, feeling as if he’s missing something. He can’t understand the look that Sorey is giving him.

And then Sorey’s lips part in a grin, and Mikleo’s shoulders drop. “I’m really happy you’re coming with me!”

His happiness is pretty tangible in Sorey’s voice; it makes Mikleo’s heart start to gallop. How could Sorey doubt that he would go with him? Mikleo looks away and says something related to Sorey’s inability to tell a lie, trying to hide a shake in his voice. Sorey says nothing at that, doesn’t even deny Mikleo’s words because he knows it’s the truth… But his smile turns sweeter and he raises an arm with a closed fist so Mikleo can press his own wrist against Sorey’s in their old fashion. They’ve been doing this for so long that it surprises Mikleo when he feels himself relaxing at the feel of Sorey’s skin against his.

Just when Mikleo starts to smile Sorey’s grin falls, sadness filling his countenance. “Gramps will be mad we’re going, though.”

Mikleo sighs, walking past Sorey once more. The entranceway to Elysia stands behind them now, but both boys can see it from the corner of their eyes. “Gramps was prepared.” Mikleo says, voice sad. His heart is doing weird things for a completely different thing now. “He always knew that someday you would go out on a journey.”

“Don’t say it like that! It’s not like I won’t see him ever again—“

“Gramps could tell” Mikleo interrupts, turning his back on Sorey. “He always knew that when you left, you would live the rest of your life with the humans.”

The wind blows lightly, whistling when it passes through the arc that is Elysia’s entrance. Mikleo can feel Sorey’s gaze on him like he can feel heat when he nears a hand to a fire. But this is a kind of heat that not even Mikleo’s water artes can extinguish. “Is Gramps the only one who thinks like that?”

“Huh?”

Mikleo turns around and his nose bumps with Sorey’s chin. He hadn’t expected his friend to be standing so close, so he goes to give one step back. But Sorey’s hand lunches forward, gripping Mikleo’s wrist and pulling him close once again. Mikleo’s nose bumps Sorey’s chin again.

“What—?”

“Is it Gramps who thinks like that, or is it you?”

_Busted._ Mikleo can’t hold Sorey’s fierce gaze. He looks to the side, towards Elysia.

“I saw the way you looked at Alisha.” Mikleo whispers, but he knows Sorey can hear him. “I always suspected, but when I saw you talking to her—“

“Mikleo…”

“Gramps gave me this for you.” Mikleo says, changing the subject, reaching behind him and pulling out Gramps’ pipe. Sorey looks at Mikleo for a moment longer and then moves his eyes to the pipe in Mikleo’s hand. “We’ll need money to get by in human society, and he wants us to sell it if we’re ever in a bind.”

Sorey takes the pipe in his hand and presses it against his chest. Mikleo can see pain in his expression, but he does not comment on it.

“There was also a message.” Mikleo says instead, starting to pull away. “But I’ll tell you while we walk, we don’t have much— _!!”_

Sorey doesn’t let him get away. He yanks at Mikleo’s wrist and pulls him in once again— just, this time he doesn’t stay still; Sorey sweeps down so their lips meet, and it’s so rushed, and he does it with such eagerness, that their teeth clack and their lips get smushed against each other’s.

It only lasts a moment though. The hand in which Sorey has the pipe comes up to cup Mikleo’s cheek, and the forceful pressing changes to a soft caress, Sorey’s lips sliding across Mikleo’s so sweetly Mikleo can’t help but kiss back.

This is not the first time they’ve kissed, nor the second, nor even the third… But it is the first time they haven’t spent the five minutes prior to it making sure the other is comfortable with it, and that it’s only just to remember what it feels like, and that it is nothing more than a silly experiment. Mikleo knows that the absence of those five minutes gives the kiss a whole new meaning, but with his mind foggy with pleasure and the excitement of their journey ahead.. Mikleo can’t make himself care.

When the kiss is over, however, and Mikleo is sweeping his tongue over his own sore bottom lip, he can’t help but ask: “W—why did you do that?”

Sorey smiles, but doesn’t give a direct answer. “Remember what I said before? The thing about wanting a world where humans and seraphim could live together, like we do?”

The question takes Mikleo a little aback. “Of course I do.”

In that moment, the beauty of the moon over their heads pales in comparison to the beauty of Sorey’s smile.

“Then why do you expect me to choose humans over seraphim? To choose them over you and the others?”

Mikleo blinks at that. He really hadn’t looked at it that way.

“I—“

Sorey flicked Mikleo’s forehead, right under his circlet.

“Oi!”

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

They are in the ruins under Ladylake when Mikleo finally snaps.

“From now on, I’m fighting too!”

Sorey steps forward, gesticulating widely with his arm. “But you don’t have the power of purification!”

“So what are you asking me to do? Stand around behind you and twiddle my thumbs? I didn’t come along just to be a liability for you!”

Sorey stops, taken aback by Mikleo’s outburst. “Mikleo…”

“Lailah!” Mikleo shouts, turning towards her, and it’s only when he registers her expression that he thinks that maybe he is acting too crazy. But it  _hurts._ Nothing has ever hurt like this, like Sorey telling him to not follow, to stay behind. No, Sorey hadn’t told him, nor asked him; he had _ordered_ Mikleo to stay behind, as if his presence would only be an inconvenience. _And that hurt so much._ “Is there any way I could use the power of purification as well?

Lailah sighs, and her expression is sad when he answers: “There is one way. You could become a Sub Lord, and place your power alongside mine. And like me… You would have to dwell inside Sorey, my vessel.”

“I’ll do it.” Mikleo says, taking Lailah’s hand in both of his.

“No!”

Sorey jumps forwards then, and it’s the most angry Mikleo has seen him in ages. His eyebrows are furrowed, there’s a fuming blush covering his cheeks, and his hair clings to his forehead with the sweat from the previous battle. Mikleo is pent up with the adrenaline he couldn’t release in the fight, but still the negative hurts. Up until now —right before a battle— they would always scream to each other _“I’m right behind you!”_ or “ _I’ll be going on ahead_!” and they would never doubt those words. No matter if they were hunting prickle boars, or they were fighting true enemies like the fox man back in Elysia, they knew they had each other's backs. They would never dare ask the other to not fight, because they were more powerful together, they made each other stronger.

But now…

Now Sorey was the Shepherd.

“Hold on now!” Sorey keeps saying, coming to a stop beside Mikleo. “You need to think about this first.”

Mikleo lets Lailah’s hand go when he turns to face Sorey. “ _I_ need to think about this? I don’t recall a whole lot of thinking when you decided to become a _Shepherd._ ”

“That was completely different! Is purifying hellions your life dream? I doubt it!”

“I am a seraph!” Mikleo shouts back. He’s barely conscious of Lailah trying to stop them, but he’s burning and he can’t stop, and _he needs Sorey to need him again._ “Hellions are my natural enemy! Is it so strange that I should want to eliminate them?”

“I don’t know, do _frogs_ try to eliminate snakes?”

Sorey’s words strike Mikleo hard, and Mikleo does not try to stop the pain from showing in his face. Sorey flinches the moment his words leave his mouth.

Mikleo turns away. “Am I a frog to you?!”

Sorey moved to stand in front of Mikleo. “That’s not— Mikleo!“

“If you didn’t want me to come with you, you could have said so sooner!”

“I never said something like that, you’re taking things out of context!”

“If you won’t let me fight at your side, why would you even want me here?!”

“Argh, Mikleo!” Sorey lets his hands drop on Mikleo’s shoulders, and he immediately feels Mikleo tense up under his palms. “Why are you getting so hysterical?!”

_Because you’re loading your back with too many responsibilities and I don’t want to be just one more! Because I too want a world where I don’t have to say goodbye to you! Because I want to fight with you, not stand around safely while you get hurt! Because I prefer to die for you than you dying for me!_

But Mikleo says none of those things. What would be the point of doing it? He still wouldn’t have the power of purification, Sorey would still not let him form a pact with Lailah. What he does do, however, is raise his hands to grip Sorey’s wrists and put them off his shoulders to step away. Sorey looks at him as if _he’s_ the one who is being pushed away, the one who is getting hurt by all this.

It makes the fight drain from Mikleo’s body. “I’m not getting hysterical.” He says, and even his voice sounds defeated. Sorey opens his mouth to say something but Mikleo is already walking away, turning his back on Sorey. He doesn’t mean to sound rejected when he speaks again, but that’s exactly how he sounds. “Your liability will be waiting for you back at the inn.”

 

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

 

Their armatus feels like going back home.

Mikleo feels Sorey everywhere. Every part of him, every thought, every intake of breath in this immaterial form is filled with Sorey, and it makes him feel such contentment. They have always fought like one, but this… This is incredible.

And still, he can’t help but sigh in relief when the armatus wears off.

Sorey is too caught up in not answering Lailah’s questions to notice. The armatus is powerful, and it’s easy, but it stirs emotions inside Mikleo that he doesn’t know how to name. Even now, feet away from Sorey, those emotions are bubbling under his skin, and he knows —the same way he knows that water will respond to his call if he only bothers to call for it—that if he steps close to Sorey those feelings will both quiet down and get stronger. So he stays close but a little ways to the side, leaving Sorey to handle Lailah.

But his friend seems to not be feeling the same, because as soon as Lailah stops talking Sorey throws his arms around Mikleo, pressing him against his chest, even lifting him from the ground. Mikleo’s arms have been trapped, close to his own sides, so he can do nothing but spit out Sorey’s feather earring when it finds its way into his mouth.

“Sorey, I can’t—breathe—“

“Oops.” Sorey laughs and lets Mikleo go back to the floor, but he doesn’t get too far away, Sorey grabbing Mikleo’s forearms instead. He smiles down at Mikleo. “Sorry. But that was amazing! It was so cool, and you handed the bow so well, as if you had been shooting arrows your whole life!”

“I didn’t do it on my own.” Mikleo says with a shrug. “We both did it.”

“Yeah…” Sorey says. He looks away for a moment just to look back at Mikleo, and his face has the kind of expression Sorey wears when he wants to have an Heartfelt Conversation, and _yes_ , Mikleo wants to have it too, but not in front of Alisha and Lailah, no matter how much he likes them already. “Mikleo, I…”

“Don’t thank me.” Mikleo says, putting a finger over his own lips. “After all, I only did this for my own dream.”

Sorey rolls his eyes; something tells Mikleo he knows what Mikleo’s doing. “I know that.” Sorey says, and punches Mikleo lightly on his shoulder, but with enough force to make Mikleo rock on the balls of his feet. “But still… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I would have been pretty mad if you had done the same to me.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you understand my point of view now. Honestly,” Mikleo adds after a breathy laugh. “Only an idiot would not see that our dreams are the same.”

“Yeah, I guess—Wait. Are you calling me an idiot, Mikleo?”

Mikleo’s lips pull up in a smirk. “Wow, look at you, you caught up on it faster than usual. I’m impressed.”

When Sorey starts the tickle fight, they both know Mikleo totally deserves the first jab to his side.

 

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

 

They are in the middle of a battle when Mikleo realizes something is _very wrong._

But he knows Sorey better than that, so he saves his concerns for later. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t send Sorey a warning look however, which immediately makes Sorey smile at him apologetically and look away.

Mikleo lets out a resigned sigh.

“Let’s do some fortune telling!” Lailah suddenly shouts beside him, and Mikleo jumps with a little cry, startled.

“What the—?“

Edna snorts, twirling her parasol.

“Scaredy-Meebo.”

“Please, pick one!”

Five white papers are put in front of his eyes, to the point that they are the only thing Mikleo can see right now. He sighs once again and the papers flutter in Lailah’s hands. He picks one without even thinking about it.

“Huh?” Lailah says, taking a look at the paper. She is usually smiling and cracking one of her bad jokes by now, so the whole group comes closer when she does neither.

“What is it, Lailah?” Sorey asks, coming to stand beside her. He looks at the paper, but—by the look on his face— whatever it’s written in it means nothing to Sorey.

“Let me guess:” Edna starts. “Meebo’s growth spur has already passed. He’s going to stay this tiny forever.”

“Hey! I’m still growing up, okay?!”

“The future says otherwise, Meebo.”

“It’s not that.” Lailah says before Mikleo can say anything else. “It’s…”

Her voice dies down when she looks up. She looks at the boys in front of her, who had been standing so far apart when the battle had ended but have somehow gravitated towards one another, until they are standing side by side with their shoulders pressing against each other. Lailah smiles at them and shakes her head.

The papers tell a story. Their body language tells the same one. She decides once again to not spoil them the end.

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

“You could have _died_ , Sorey.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad—“

“But it could have been! If Lailah hadn’t been standing where she was…”

“…Mikleo—”

“You can tell me.” Mikleo says, looking to the side. “Or is it that you don’t trust me?”

Sorey is sitting on the windowsill in their room at their inn, looking at the rain outside. They are alone—a rare occurrence these days—, and Mikleo had taken the chance to ask about the thing that has been bothering him for _days._

He walks closer to Sorey until his hip bumps Sorey’s arm, and feigns to be looking outside like the other boy. He starts to mentally count to thirty.

At twenty-three, Mikleo smacks Sorey up the side of his head.

“Oi!”

“I knew it!” Mikleo shouts, while Sorey rubs where Mikleo has hit him. Mikleo feels the need to smack him again. “You can’t see from your right eye, can you?”

Sorey sighs and looks at Mikleo while messing his hair with his hand. The beads of the Shepherd’s glove get tangled in his soft hair. Sorey starts to pull at it while he says: “Please don’t tell to the others.”

Clicking his tongue, Mikleo bats Sorey’s hand away and starts to work disentangling Sorey’s hair from his glove. “When did it start? Do you know why it’s happening? Your eye was fine in Elysia.”

“Yeah… Ouch!” Both Sorey and Mikleo flinched when Mikleo pulled to hard at one of the strands.

“Sorry.”

“…It’s because of Alisha.”

“Alisha?”

When Sorey sighs, he looks —and sounds— so tired and sad, Mikleo can't help scratching Sorey’s scalp lightly with his nails, pushing his hair back. Sorey closes his eyes at the sensation, but Mikleo doesn’t do it a second time. Sorey’s hair is almost free from the glove by now.

“It’s… The pact of the Squire. Alisha’s low resonance takes too much from me, even more now that she can speak and see seraphs on her own. It’s not her fault, of course! But… It is because of her.”

Mikleo says nothing for a while. He doesn’t realize it, but his fingers are still playing with Sorey’s hair, combing the strands this way or the other, lightly dragging his nails across Sorey’s scalp again.

The motion makes goosebumps appear on Sorey’s skin.

“We can’t tell her.” Mikleo says finally, with a sigh. “She’s trying so hard…”

“Yeah.”

Outside, thunder cracks and illuminates the dark sky. It makes them both think of home.

“I’ll do the aiming from now on, Sorey.”

Sorey knows Mikleo isn’t talking just about the armatus now. He sighs, relieved,

“Thank you.”

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

They are together, but Sorey is standing next to an unconscious girl by the riverside, shouting Mikleo’s name, and Mikleo is shouting Sorey’s, and only one of them can hear the other.

“Sorey!” Mikleo shouts once again, moving in front of Sorey. There’s desperation in his voice, and his hands are so tightly clenched that his nails are leaving indentations on the skin at his palms. “Sorey, please! Listen to me!”

“Leave it be, Meebo.” Edna says, looking away. It hurts to look at Mikleo’s face. “Sorey can’t see us.”

“No!” Mikleo shouts, and he gets on his tiptoes to grab Sorey’s face in his hands. Sorey seems to not be able to feel it, his eyes going over Mikleo without really seeing him. “Sorey!”

“Mikleo…” Sorey whispers, but he’s not talking to Mikleo. He’s simply calling his name.

“Why?” Mikleo asks when Sorey turns away to kneel next to the girl. “Why is this happening?”

“Mikleo…” Lailah whispers, hands clasped before her.

“People don’t lose their resonance like that!” He shouts. There are tears of frustration clinging to his eyelashes. “Something is wrong with him, we need to help him!”

Edna moves fast. She is standing next to Lailah one second and the next she is next to Mikleo, swinging her arm around and smacking Mikleo’s back with her closed parasol. Lailah gasps, not having thought her friend could do something like that, but Mikleo turns his angry eyes to Edna, the violet in his eyes resembling the clouds in a storm.

“Edna—“

“Calm down, Mikleo.”

She gives the order in the same way she always speaks: voice controlled, eyes narrowed. But it’s Edna using his real name, not the mocking nicknames she usually uses, what makes Mikleo’s anger stop short, all tension over his shoulders evaporating.

“Use that pretty head of yours for a second.” Edna keeps saying, twirling her parasol fast over her shoulder. The charm that hangs from it seems about to be thrown away. “Sorey is the Shepherd. He has just battled the Lord of Calamity _and lost._ It’s obvious all that malevolence has affected him. The moment he rests and has a full night of sleep he will be able to see us again.”

Mikleo bites down on his lip. “But…”

“I think Edna’s right, Mikleo.” Lailah says with a smile. “And look, Sorey’s moving. Let’s just go with him and make sure he doesn’t get in trouble.”

Mikleo doesn’t like the plan, but Lailah is right. Sorey is walking up a hill with the girl at his back, and the fact that he’s not looking back to tell Mikleo to hurry up…

Shaking his head, Mikleo runs to walk by Sorey’s right, even if his friend doesn’t even know it. Just Mikleo knowing is enough.

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

They are back home, and Mikleo has since long ago put a name to his feelings.

At some point in his life, he fell in love with his best friend. He has days in which he’s so sure about it he wants to stop Sorey, pull him aside, and pour his heart out to him, consequences be damned. _These_ are good days.

In other days, he buries his feelings in the darkest depths of his heart, convinces himself that what he feels is brotherly love, that everyone would do the things he’s willing to do for their friend. But then Sorey laughs, or his eyes get determined before a battle, or he calls out Mikleo’s name right before poking him in the cheek with his finger to grab his attention, and—

Nope, not brotherly love.

_These_ are really bad days.

Today is one of the good ones. They have gone back to Elysia to see the view of the world, just the two of them looking down while the other seraphs visit the village. They are alone, and the view is exactly the same, even if they themselves have changed. Mikleo closes his eyes to feel the soft breeze mess with his hair.

“Hey,” Sorey says next to him. He has turned his eyes from the view to look at Mikleo, but they still hold the same intensity as they did when they were looking down at the world. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”

Lately, Mikleo feels like Sorey knows. Not everything, because it’s _Sorey_ we’re talking about here, and he’s incredibly smart for somethings, but really dumb for others. Love is one of the later things. But he knows something, and sometimes it looks like he’s pointing at the path Mikleo should take, as if saying _‘It’s okay. Tell me. It will be okay.’_

But ‘ _it’s okay_ ’ does not equal ‘ _I feel the same_.’

So Mikleo feigns to not see the path Sorey points at and turns his back to both.

“Did I?” He says, not looking at Sorey. “I forget.”

Sorey sighs, looking away too. “Well, _that’s_ convenient.”

“You’re not much for conversation, anyway.”

“Mikleo—“

“I’ll tell you if I remember.”

Sorey looks back at Mikleo at that, surprised. Mikleo risks a glance at him from the corner of his eye, and the smile on Sorey’s face almost makes him spill everything.

Almost.

“For real?”

“For real.”

 

 

✯✯✯✯✯✯

 

 

It’s been so long… Years, centuries… Eons. Mikleo has forgotten even how old he is. He stopped measuring time long ago.

But now the hourglass has been turned upside-down once again, and the sand is starting to fall.

Mikleo needs a minute to calm his erratic breathing. When the minute is gone, he decides he needs another. By the third one, he knows he’s just stalling, because even though his breathing is gone back to normal now, his heart rate has not. It’s mainly due to the gloved hand that still grips his wrist, to the nervous thumb that keeps sweeping over Mikleo’s thick brown glove. Mikleo has never been more grateful for his long hair, which right now hangs over his face, preventing him to see the person in front of him, but also preventing that same person to look at him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” An all too familiar male voice says, and the thumb in his wrist presses down, coaxing an answer. Mikleo’s heart jumps, because _his voice has not changed;_ but then again, this person changing was never Mikleo’s concern but rather… “You’re not hurt, are you?”

That voice again. It makes Mikleo’s knees weak, makes him feel as if he's falling down that hole again,--but he’s already kneeling on the floor of the ruins so it’s fine. Shaking his head, Mikleo sees glimpses of the boy in front of him: a white cloth over strong shoulders, feathers hanging from an earring, a fingerless white glove—

“…Mikleo?”

His name whispered by that voice… Mikleo can almost imagine — _remember_ — the shape of the lips that enclose that voice when they form his name, how they used to part to let a laugh escape, how they pulled down at the corners when he was sad or worried, how they felt over his own…

Mikleo’s hands clench into fists over his own tights.

“Is it really you?” He asks, voice low, not raising his head yet. “Is it really you, Sorey?”

The man in front of him laughs under his breath. “Won’t you look at me and find out?”

Mikleo wants to. He really, really does, but he’s dreamt of this so many times. And so many times he’s raised his head, only to find himself starring at the ceiling of his home back in Elysia, only to feel the choking sensation of disappointment fill his veins. He can’t take it now, when everything feels so real, when he can almost taste Sorey in the air, how the water around the ruins whispers Sorey’s name to him, telling him _he’s finally come back home._

Mikleo has learnt in his travels to trust his element.

He looks up.

He has changed. His hair is longer and lighter, his features more sharp, his jaw more square. Mikleo wants to hook his fingers on it. He’s kneeling in front of him, but Mikleo thinks Sorey is even taller now, even bigger around the shoulders, which is _not fair at all_ because he’s been _sleeping_ while Mikleo has been moving, and his only comfort all this time was that at least when Sorey finally woke up Mikleo would be taller—

“Mikleo? Say something please, I’m…”

“I love you.”

It’s not what he had imagined himself to say, every time he thought of their reunion. But it’s what has been sleeping at the tip of his tongue for centuries, so of course it would be almost the first thing to come out of his mouth, even before welcoming him home, even before Mikleo touches him, for fuck’s sake—

When he smiles, Mikleo is happy to see Sorey looks exactly the same.

“You waited for me.” Sorey _says,_ doesn’t ask, hands reaching up to cup Mikleo’s face. Mikleo’s hair falls around his arms like a waterfall.

Mikleo leans his cheek on Sorey’s palm.

“Yes.”

When they kiss, they’re happy to find out they still don’t know if they are doing it right. Sorey hasn’t had the chance to learn, because he was sleeping. Mikleo has had chances, but he refused them all, because he was waiting. He didn’t have to wait, but he did, and when Sorey’s tongue sloppily moves into his mouth he’s glad he’s done so.

They are old but still young when they reunite.


End file.
